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The Other Malone Sister
The Other Malone Sister By Dr Unlucky
They broke up on the train.
Trains push his memories to the surface. All the trips into
the country as a child. All the trees passing by, leaves
changing to red and gold.
The city fades fast, faster then you can imagine. It is so
small compared to the stretches of country to the Jersey
Shore, to Upstate, to Boston and Maryland and DC.
Looking at Maggie, he could see her fighting her childhood
memories. At least he wanted to think she was fighting them,
hoping they were there to be fought. She had her nose in a
notebook, making a list of things to do.
They were going to Maggie's parents' house because
Maggie's father was sick. He had a heart attack, but
it looked like he was going to be alright. She had a big Irish
family and it was expected that a good daughter would come
home in a time like this. So Maggie and her boyfriend Jack
got on a train from New York to Virginia.
Maggie and Jack had been living together for three years.
They had been dating for four and known each other since
college six years ago. She was going for her BA in Fine Arts
and he was going for his Masters in English back then.
She had their life planned out. She had a good steady job
and he did freelance work. They had a nice apartment, which
he loved, but she wanted to move out to the country soon.
She wanted to get married, but he hadn't asked her yet.
She had plans and he wasn't playing along. She didn't
break up with him because she had already put too much time
into him. He didn't break up with her because he was
lazy and didn't like confrontation.
There was something about the trip that started pushing
Jack's buttons from the start. They were taking the
train out to her parents' house and there was this air
of expectance. She expected him to go, to be excited, to
ask her to marry him, to want kids, to want a better job...
but none of that was going to happen and both of them were
starting to realize it.
Three-quarters of the way there, after arguing over signing
another lease for the apartment, she said "If you
don't want to grow as a couple then maybe we should just
break up."
It wasn't a threat, it was something that people said
in the heat of the moment, but it just pushed Jack over the
edge.
"Yeah. We should. This relationship is a joke. You
don't love me; you just need someone to help you afford
a mortgage."
And she cracked. She cried. There was no putting things
back together. For the next hour they agreed on things.
Jack would be nice for the three day weekend with Maggie's
parents. They would take care of the breakup when they got
back. And then like a switch when they got to their stop Maggie
fixed her makeup and was back to herself.
They entered the big old house just after 4pm. It was an old
southern house with white pillars outside and a big porch
and a huge white door.
They entered to find silence and emptiness. Walking up
the staircase they came to a long hall. Pictures hung along
the walls, old school pictures of Maggie and her sisters
Molly and Megan. Three smiling girls with white skin and
black hair and matching skirts and sweaters. Three princesses
at Halloween. Three girls on horses.
Jack followed Maggie as she navigated pass a dozen doors
and finally found her old room. Jack was a stranger in this
place. He was not a Malone.
Maggie's room was white walled, filled with 2-foot
boxes in one corner, an uncomfortable looking bed made
up with yellow sheets and a pink and yellow quilt. One wall
was all white bookshelves, but they were only a quarter
filled. On one wall hung a large framed sketch of Maggie.
He remembered her sitting in front of the mirror, sketching
herself for her final project in still life, back in college.
In that frame was Maggie, the girl. Quiet in class, but boisterous
when she was excited. Level headed, list making, but deep
down an artist. Deep down filled with the same curiosity
that Jack was filled with. Curiosity about books, history,
art... and sex. The more he remembered their college years
the more he realized that the Maggie he knew was gone.
When did she start longing for mediocre satisfaction?
When did she stop needing to explore and started needing
a bigger house, a better job, some mythical security she
constantly talked about. When did she put her paints and
her charcoal and her pads and canvas in her parents'
basement to go untouched?
The same time she started thinking of sex as a duty and rolling
her eyes at the mere mention of sexual adventure. Sex was
just relieving them both of some energy or maybe a way for
her to get him to leave her alone so she could get enough sleep
to wake up at 5 in the morning to jog.
She sighed and put her bags down.
"Listen, you can stay here. I will go to the hospital.
Then everyone will come back for dinner. I know you don't
want to be here... but let's just do this and then we
can get back and..." she just trailed off. A horn honked
outside and she looked out the window.
"That's my aunt. Unpack, ok?"
Jack nodded. "I like your family. This weekend will
be fine. Go check on your father, make sure he is alright."
She looked at him, unsure if a hug was still ok. Then she just
turned around and left.
He unpacked, he looked around. He ended up on the bed, drifting
off into a nap. The train ride, the fight, all of it melted
away.
When he awoke in darkness. He could hear people downstairs
and smell the warm homey smells of chicken and potatoes.
He saw movement, the door opened and closed.
"Hey. You ok? Sorry I fell asleep... the fight and
everything..."
"I don't think you're talking to the right
Malone girl, mister."
The light came on and that's when he found out Maggie's
little sister grew up.
She was Maggie, but different. Shorter, but only slightly.
Bustier, a little more hip, a little more ass. Same nose,
same ears, fuller lips. Her eyes were blue, while Maggie's
where green.
"Molly."
"That's me."
The last time he saw her it was about four years ago, she had
just turned fifteen. Sitting up fully he couldn't
quiet comprehend that it was the same person. Molly the
Mole, skinned knee tomboy who made gagging sounds if she
saw him kissing her sister.
The first thing he noticed was a red and black nautical star
tattoo between her neck and her breasts, half hidden by
her white cotton tank top. Half perfect black and red ink
on her white skin, half dark shadow under the thin cotton.
"Nice ink."
She squirmed under his eyes. "Thanks." Her
arms came up and she folded them over her breasts. She was
trying not to smile.
"So, are you two having a fight?"
"Um. No. Not really. Just an argument. Sort of."
he knew he had to look away from her, but he couldn't.
It was like looking at all the missing parts of Maggie, melted
into a younger curvier tighter form. He walked over to the
window and looked out at the greens and the grays.
She came into the room and walked to the bookshelf, looking
at the remaining books, letting her finger drift over the
spines.
"I was wondering what you would look like now, "
she said. He could hear the smile in her voice.
"Oh? Do I look different?"
He looked over to her and she nodded. "You look old,
but basically the same. You look better with your hair short.
Long hair looked pretty dumb long. Plus those glasses are
better, the dark frames. You're still ugly, though."
There was the smile, the wicked brat smile. In those eyes
was pure curiosity.
"I always thought you had a crush on me."
She let out a laugh, but she blushed.
"You wish." she said, but eyed him and smiled.
He looked at her from the side now. It was like a lecture on
the effects of puberty. At fifteen she was all legs and arms
and wild nervous energy. At nineteen she was all hips and
tits and calm sultry sex.
He noticed other tattoos, one on her wrist, this one just
a black star. He could see the shadow of something on her
back, it was large and not one of those little designs girls
get right at their tailbone, this was long and it came up
from around her butt to the middle of her back.
He stood up and moved closer to her, slowly and she tensed.
She was still facing the books, pretending not to be curious
about what he was going to do next. He walked behind her,
moved closer until he was two feet away. He looked at the
books, he looked at her neck, and he looked at her eye as she
turned her head to look at him.
"You got a tattoo on your back, too?"
She nodded, still facing her body away from him, but looking
at him from over her shoulder.
He moved in and put his hands on her waist. She froze. He touched
the edges of her thin shirt.
"Can I see?"
She swallowed and nodded. Their eyes met. Curiosity, lust.
He pulled up her shirt slowly and saw that there where two
jet black f-hole, like the ones on a violin or cello. It was
a lot of ink, a lot of time. He touched the edge of it and he
could feel raised scarred skin.
Her back was smooth and her ass curved out from just below
his hand.
"Wow. You got all this done in the last year?"
She moved forward, pulling her shirt out of his grip.
"Yeah. I was dating a tattoo artist for a while."
He took her hand and looked at the tattoo on her wrist.
"Did they hurt?"
She smiled. "That's the best part."
A voice from downstairs said "Kids... dinner."
Dinner was huge and southern. Jack had forgotten that people
ate like that. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes, greens
and a million other things. Everyone was so busy catching
up with Maggie and Molly, who had been off at Art School and
also with Maggie's older sister who had just had twins
that no one really bothered talking to Jack, which was just
the way he liked it.
Molly watched him though. Watched him like a cat watches
a bird. It was a very different look then the fifteen year
old awkward kid gave him four years ago.
When it was over Maggie said goodnight to all and went upstairs
with Jack, got undressed without looking at him and then
went to bed.
Jack laid there, uncomfortable because of the small bed
and not really wanting to be too close to Maggie. He found
himself thinking of Molly every time he closed his eyes.
The way she looked in that white tank top, tough and sexy.
He wanted to know what those tattoos looked like up close.
What it felt like to trace them with his tongue.
Thoughts like that and the moonlight coming in from the
window kept him up half the night. It seemed like only minutes,
but the next time he opened his eyes it was morning. He awoke
to feel the familiar sensation of Maggie next to him. He
had turned around to face her in the night and now he was spooning
her, with his arm around her.
She felt warm, she smelt good. Her ass against him made him
stir inside. Without really realizing, his hand came up
to cup her breast. It was such a natural thing.
She sighed and pushes his arm away. "Yeah, right."
She said with disgust. She sat up and climbed over him. "Go
back to bed, I'm taking a shower. Everyone is going
to go to church in an hour. I know you don't want to do
that, so I'll probably see you at lunch." She
looked him in the eyes. "Shave, ok?"
He nodded. He was still hard under the warm sheets. Memories,
warm blanket comfort and the smell of her hair on the pillow
made his mind swim. If he just relaxed he could fall back
asleep. And then there was nothing.
He awoke to the sound of the door closing.
The room was too bright, the sun coming in through the half
opened curtains. He was groggy, as only waking up from oversleeping
can make you. The room was a dull white blur, then the blinds
were closed and the curtains pulled shut so that the light
filtered through the rust colored fabric, making the room
dull yellow and red.
Then Maggie slipped into bed. Her arms around him, her lips
on his neck. He pushed her hair back and kissed her. Her lips
felt soft, there was some sweet lip gloss... and then he
opened his eyes wider and saw who was really in bed with him.
There was Molly. There was Molly in her white tank top.
"Hello Mister Bed-head."
He tried to comprehend what was going on. Then Molly's
lips were on his again and he felt the rush of the taste of
a new mouth. Molly squirmed, turned around, and her soft
round ass was against him. His arms wrapped around her and
they spooned. His mouth on her neck and his hands on her hips.
It is an interesting thing when you are so used to one person's
body, your hands remember where to go on them, your body
understands how you are supposed to fit together, but now
he was lost in this new geography. Her lips were too hot and
soft, her kisses were too rough, her breasts too big, too
heavy, too perfect.
Her hips flared out, giving him something to really hold
on to when he pulled her against him. Her ass was soft and
cool and when he hooked his fingers into the sides of her
panties and pulled them down, he slipped right between
her cheeks and it was perfection.
She moved her head back as he moved forward and he was lost
in her kiss again. She arched her whole body against him
and her lips were on his ear, sucking, then biting, then
whispering.
"Do you want to fuck me?"
Jack grunted and pulled at her hips roughly. His cock touching
wetness and heat as it rubbed between her legs.
"You have to say it. I like to hear it."
Her voice was steady, but wanton. It was new, not the silent
simple sex Jack was used to. Jack liked this.
"Damn, " he groaned into her neck. "I
want to fuck you... so badly."
His hand squeezed her breast once more and then moved down
between her legs. He groaned again when he felt smoothness
where he expected coarse hair. Then his fingers felt wet
heat. Silk softness, perfect folds that made him growl.
As his finger passed over her lips and one finger slipped
into her, she pushed her ass back against him.
"I want you to go down on me." She gasped, pushing
his hand away and laying on her back.
Jack looked down at her, her face was red and a red blush ran
down her neck and on her chest where his unshaven face rubbed
against her. He went to push her shirt off, but instead smiled.
"Take off your shirt. I want to see your tits."
She smiled wickedly, pulled off her shirt, then unhooked
her bra removed it.
He saw that red and black star on her chest and lower down
another tattoo... a heart on fire with a gold crown above
it, right over her heart.
He moved until he was kneeling between her open legs, then
he moved down and kissed her neck again, then traced his
tongue around the slightly raised thick black lines of
each tattoo on her chest. She arched her hips and her breath
caught.
He kissed down her chest and stomach until he got between
her legs. By now she was growling and purring.
One lick and he was addicted. Her body moved like a snake
as he licked at her and she whined and gasped.
"More... fuck. Make me come."
He licked her lips teasing and bit the tight skin of her thigh,
then he moved in circling her clit and flicking it and he
moved one hand up to slip one finger into her.
That was all it took. Fucking her with his finger and licking
her made her body buck and made her grab the pillow behind
her and squeeze it as she came hard.
Jack sat up, watching her come down from her amazing orgasm.
He had never seen a woman come that hard. Maggie took half
an hour of work... sometimes even a vibrator.
She smiled and looked into his eyes and then turned to look
at the clock.
"Fuck, we only have 20 more minutes..."
She pushed him away and stood up, looking at him wickedly.
"I guess I got to make you come fast... stand up."
He did and she kissed him hard, licking his bottom lip and
tasting herself on him.
"What get's you off? You want to fuck me from behind?
Want me to get on top and ride you? I want to make you get off
hard." She said all these things into his ear as she
reached down and gripped his cock tightly.
Really, he didn't even know. He was so used to getting
what ever sad sex Maggie would give him he didn't know
what he really want. He had never been with someone so forward.
"You like that this is dirty? That my sister could
come home any minute?" She whispered, jerking him
off.
He gasped.
"You like that I am fucking 10 years younger then you?"
He grunted.
"You want me to be a little girl for you? I can bend over
and you can fuck me?"
She turned in a flash and kneeled down, taking the head of
his cock in her mouth. She sucked and licked around the head.
"Want me to be your little girl and you can be my daddy?"
Then she sucked half of his cock.
"Fuck yes."
All thought disappeared. She broke every rule her sister
set in bed. She was like a wet, writhing, perfect Id of sex.
She stood up and then leaned over the bed, sticking her ass
up in the air.
"Come on... fuck me daddy. Be my good daddy and fuck
me. I'm so fucking bad... I'm a slut... fuck me..."
And then he was looking down at her back with the tattoos
that looked like a cello and she was groaning and then he
was inside of her. And it was tight wet perfection.
"Fuck me daddy. Fuck me daddy. Fuck me daddy."
She whispered it over and over, like a mantra.
It took seconds for him to come. It was the most violent,
mind numbing, powerful orgasm he could remember. He almost
fell down, his knees went so week.
He collapsed on the bed, hardly aware that she had laid down
and started fingering herself.
"Fuck... daddy... mmm..."
Jack turned and weakly kissed her nipple, wanting her to
get off one more time.
"Bite it hard." She begged.
He bit it, reaching up and squeezing her other tit. Then
he moved up to her ear and whispered.
"Come for me... be daddy's little slut..."
And she came, loud against him.
And that's when the door opened.
END
This story is being released under a Creative Commons Attribution
Non Commercial 2.5 License. You may remix, tweak, and build
upon this work non-commercially, and although new works
must acknowledge Dr.Unlucky and be non-commercial.
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